James Ellroy - L. A. Confidential

Gallaudet whistled. "So we need the girl's word on the time element «and» IDs on the other rapers."

"Right. «And» our suspects are clammed, «and» Bud White killed the one witness who could have helped us."

"That guy White's a pisser, isn't he? Don't look so spooked, being scared of him means you're sane. Now come on, let's talk to the young lady."

They walked into the room. A Sheriff's matron blocked the bed-tall, fat, short hair waxed straight back. Gallaudet said, "Ed Exley, Dot Rothstein." The woman nodded, stepped aside.

Inez Soto.

Black eyes, her face cut and bruised. Dark hair shaved to the forehead, sutures. Tubes in her arms, tubes under the sheets. Cut knuckles, split nails-she fought. Ed saw his mother: bald, sixty pounds in an iron lung.

Gallaudet said, "Miss Soto, this is Sergeant Exley."

Ed leaned on the bed rail. "I'm sorry we couldn't have given you more time to recuperate, and I'll try to make this as brief as possible."

Inez Soto stared at him-dark eyes, bloodshot. A raspy voice: "I won't look at any more pictures."

Gallaudet: "Miss Soto identified Coates, Fontaine and Jones from mugshots. I told her we might need her to look at some mugshots for IDs on the other men."

Ed shook his head. "That won't be necessary right now. Right now, Miss Soto, I need you to try to remember a chronology of the events that happened to you two nights ago. We can do this very slowly, and for now we won't need details. When you're more rested, we can go over it again. Please take your time and start when the three men kidnapped you."

Inez pushed up on her pillows. "They weren't men!"

Ed gripped the rail. "I know. And they're going to be punished for what they did to you. But before we can do that we need to eliminate or confirm them as suspects on another crime."

"I want them dead! I heard the radio! «I want them dead for that!»"

"We can't do that, because then the other ones who hurt you will go free. We have to do this correctly."

A hoarse whisper. "Correctly means six white people are more important than a Mexican girl from Boyle Heights. Those animals ripped me up and did their business in my mouth. They stuck guns in me. My family thinks I brought it on myself because I didn't marry a stupid «cholo» when I was sixteen. I will tell you nothing, «cabrón»."

Gallaudet: "Miss Soto, Sergeant Exley saved your life."

"He ruined my life! Officer White said he cleared the «negritos» on a murder charge! Officer White's the hero-he killed the «puto» who took me up my ass!"

Inez sobbed. Gallaudet gave the cut-off sign. Ed walked down to the gift shop-familiar, his deathwatch. Flowers for 875: fat cheerful bouquets every day.

Bud came on duty early, found a memo on his desk.

4/19/53

Lad-

Paperwork is not your forte, but I need you to run records checks (two) for me. (Dr. Layman has identified the three patron victims.) Use the standard procedure I've taught you and first check bulletin 11 on the squadroom board: it updates the overall status of the case and details the duties of the other investigating officers, which will prevent you frow doing gratuitous and extraneous tasks.

1. Susan Nancy Lefferts, W.F., DOB 1/29/22, no criminal record. A San Bernardino native recently arrived in Los Angeles. Worked as a salesgirl at Bullock's Wilshire (background check assigned to Sgt. Exley).

2. Delbert Melvin Cathcart, a.k.a. "Duke," W.M., DOB 11/14/14. Two statutory rape convictions, served three years at San Quentin. Three procuring arrests, no convictions. (A tough ID: laundry markings and the body cross-checked against prison measurement charts got us our match.) No known place of employment, last known address 9819 Vendome, Silverlake District.

3. Malcolm Robert Lunceford, a.k.a. "Mal," W.M., DOB 6/02/12. No last known address, worked as a security guard at the Mighty Man Agency, 1680 North Cahuenga. Former LAPD officer (patrolman), assigned to Hollywood Division throughout most of his eleven-year career. Fired for incompetence 6/5 0. Known to be a late night habitué of the Nite Owl. I've checked Lunceford's personnel file and concluded that the man was a disgraceful police officer (straight "D" fitness reports from every C. O.). You check whatever paperwork exists on him at Hollywood Station (Breuning and Carlisle will be there to shag errands for you).

Summation: I still think the Negroes are our men, but Cathcart's criminal record and Lunceford's cxpoliceman status mean that more than cursory background checks should be conducted. I want you as my adjutant on this job, an excellent baptism of fire for you as a straight Homicide detective. Meet me tonight (9:30) at the the Pacific Dining Car. We'll discuss the job and related matters.

D.S.

Bud checked the main bulletin board. Nite Owl thick: field reports, autopsy reports, summaries. He found bulletin 11, skimmed it.

Six R &I clerks detached to check criminal records and auto registrations; the 77th Street squad shaking down jigtown for the shotguns and Ray Coates' Mere. Breuning and Carlisle muscling known gun jockeys; the area around the Nite Owl canvassed nine times without turning a single extra eyewitness. The spooks refused to talk to LAPD men, D.A.'s Bureau investigators, Ellis Loew himself. Inez Soto refused to cooperate on clearing up the time frame; Ed Exley blew a questioning session, said they should treat her kid-gloves.

Down the board: Malcolm Lunceford's LAPD personnel sheets. Bad news-Lunceford as a free-meal scrounger, general incompetent. A putrid arrest record; cited for dereliction of duty three times. An interdepartmental information request issued; four officers who worked with Lunceford responded. Grafter! buffoon: Mal drank on duty, shook down hookers for blowjobs, tried to shake down Hollywood merchants for his off-duty "protection service"-letting him sleep on their premises while he was locked out of his apartment for nonpayment of rent. One complaint too many got Lunceford bounced in June 1950; all four responding officers stated that he probably wasn't a deliberate Nite Owl victim: as a policeman he habituated all-night coffee shops-usually to scrounge chow; he was probably at the Nite Owl at 3:00 A.M. because he was hooked on sweet Lucy and sleeping in the weeds and the Nite Owl looked cozy and warm.

Bud drove to Hollywood Station-Inez on his mind, Dudley, Dick Stens along with her. Guts: she tried to claw herself off the gurney to get at Sylvester Fitch, strapped dead to a morgue cot; she screamed: "I'm dead, I want them dead!" He hustled her to the ambulance, filched morphine and a hypo, shot her up while no one was looking. The worst of it should have been over-but the worst was still coming.

Exley would interrogate her, make her spit out details, look at sex offender pix until she cracked. Ellis Loew wanted an airtight case-that meant show-ups, courtroom testimony. Inez Soto: the first headliner witness for the most ambitious D.A. who ever breathed-all he could do was see her at the hospital, say "Hi," try to muffle the blows. A brave woman shoved at Ed Exley- fodder for a cowardly hard-on.

Inez to Stens.

Good revenge: Danny Duck masks, Exley whimpering. The photo good insurance; Dick still jacked up on blood-a taste that told him he was still on the muscle. His job at Kikey T.'s deli stunk-the dump was a known grifter hangout, a probation rap waiting to happen. Stens sleeping in his car, boozing, gambling-jail taught him absolutely shit.

Bud cut north on Vine; sunlight picked up his reflection in the windshield. His necktie stood out: LAPD shields, 2's. The 2's stood for the men he killed; he'd have to get some new ties made up-3's to add on Sylvester Fitch. Dudley 's idea: «esprit de corps» for Surveillance. Snappy stuff: women got a kick out of them. Dudley was a kick-in the teeth, in the brains.